


What To Do With A Broken God

by ChildOfHecate666



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Trials of Apollo - Rick Riordan
Genre: Abandonment, Aphrodite and Apollo are Besties, Aphrodite is a good friend, Apollo (Percy Jackson) Needs a Hug, Apollo (Percy Jackson) is a Good Parent, Apollo Needs Therapy, Apollo is a good dad, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, He loves his kids and he's trying, Hermes loves his big brother, Hestia is Best Goddess, Hestia is also Best Aunt, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental/Emotional Breakdown, Night Terrors, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Post-The Trials of Apollo, References to PTSD, Self-Hatred, Slight Artemis salt, Zeus Being an Asshole (Percy Jackson), Zeus's (Percy Jackson) A+ Parenting, but she gets better
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:28:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,757
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28692480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChildOfHecate666/pseuds/ChildOfHecate666
Summary: Everyone expected things to go back to normal once Apollo regained his godhood. But after his trials, nothing can ever be normal for him ever again. He feels haunted by his trials, haunted by his many mistakes and the blood on his hands. How could he ever go back to normal after he went through hell and back? After he saw how wrong he and the gods had been?He's trying so hard to help the demigods but who's helping Apollo?They keep saying everything was okay, but that isn't true at all.Apollo is far from okay.But he's a god, he has to be.... right?
Relationships: Aphrodite & Apollo (Percy Jackson), Apollo & Hermes (Percy Jackson), Apollo & Kayla Knowles & Austin Lake & Will Solace, Apollo & Meg McCaffrey, Apollo & Will Solace
Comments: 23
Kudos: 140





	1. The Nightmares That Steal My Rest

**Author's Note:**

> All rights to Rick Riordan and associated companies. I do not own Trials of Apollo, PJO or anything related to the Riordanverse.

Once Apollo’s godhood was restored, everyone – the gods, the demigods, even monsters – assumed everything would go back to normal. There were no more prophecies, no more trials, nothing. Gods would go back to doing godly things, demigods would go back to trying to survive and mortals would go back to not knowing the myths existed, in the Mist’s blissfully ignorant embrace. It would be like nothing even happened.

That was what everyone expected to happen. Everyone but Apollo.

After his trials, after his third time as a mortal, Apollo couldn’t expect normal, couldn’t go back to how he used to be. He had seen things, realised things he never thought possible.

He realised how wrong he had been. He had realised how neglected demigods felt, how dangerous their lives were, how painful and yet so wonderful being mortal, being human was. But it brought less pleasant realisations to him, about the gods, about Olympus, about himself and the things he had done.

This time as a mortal was not like the others, not at all. This time, he couldn’t forget it, couldn’t brush it off. He had watched people die, had felt pain and suffering, had loved and cried and experienced in ways he never had as a god. It was engrained in him, made him want to be better.

And he tried. He spent more time with the demigods, with his children (though under the guise of seeing Dionysus to avoid Zeus’ anger, of course), worked harder to make mortals happy rather than suffer and even began to teach Meg how to play the piano, just as he had promised.

It didn’t erase the bad, didn’t make him forget what he had realised about Olympus and the gods. How could he forget? How could ignore the fighting, the abuse, the selfishness after he realised how toxic it truly was. It wasn’t just “gods being gods” anymore, not after he was banished, after he was thrown away.

But he was being better he was trying and that was what made him feel like things could be better from then on. Made him hope.

At least until the nightmares started.

He’d only been a god again for a few weeks at most when he began to fear sleeping, began to dread going to bed at night. The dreams haunted him, reminding him of the most horrible moments of his trials, whispering his darkest thoughts in his subconscious into his head.

Some nights he would see Jason’s death, over and over. Sometimes it was Crest’s death instead. Sometimes they would speak, blaming him, over and over like Apollo didn’t already blame himself enough for it.

On the worst nights it wasn’t just Jason and Crest, sometimes it was Meg or his children or Nico or Rachel who lay dead, killed because of his mistakes, their cold, bloodied bodies rising and screaming that it was his fault. They would speak words he felt true deep inside of him, calling him selfish, saying he never cared for them, never loved them. On occasion Hyacinthus and Daphne stood amongst them, saying the same words, even joined by the countless others that had died because of him.

Every time he closed his eyes, if it weren’t their deaths, it was when he had stabbed himself, or when he was poisoned or when he was abandoned in that dumpster. Sometimes he was just alone, but it never got rid of the voices of everyone he had hurt, never got rid of his own voice his own guilt.

But no matter the content of his nightmares, he had them every single night.

He had another, as he lay down in his bed in his temple on Olympus, too tired to stay up to avoid his nightmares. The night air was chilly on his skin, the sound of the trees blowing in the breeze and the windchimes outside his window were soothing and his bed was soft and comfy, wrapping him up in a warm embrace.

He eyes had fluttered close before he had even realised. For a moment, all was almost peaceful, just nothing but blankness that didn’t torment him with angry words of bloody images. No, it just let him rest.

But it didn’t last, of course. Soon, the nightmare creeped in, making him thrash around in his bed, make him mumbled and whimper in his sleep as he tried to escape the horrific claws of his nightmares.

* * *

_It was dark, too dark to see anything. He had no clue where he was but he knew it was far from a good place to be. It sent a shiver down his spine as he wandered in the dark, calling out to see if he truly was alone._

_He walked and walked until suddenly, he smelt something that almost made him vomit. It was metallic, coppery in scent, so strong he could taste it. The smell was overpowering and horrifically familiar._

_Blood._

_He stumbled forward, calling out again, asking who was there, if they were hurt but he found he had no voice. Anything he said was unheard. He flinched as a dim light suddenly filled the empty space he had been wandering._

_He looked around, finding everything around him was still dark and endless but the light illuminated the source of the blood. He turned his gaze downward and promptly screamed._

_Laid before him, were bodies. Jason, Crest, his children. They lay amongst a crimson pool of blood, expanding almost endlessly around him. It dripped from the walls like multiple sick waterfalls. He retched as he saw it, his eyes unable to look away from the bodies._

_Crest was beaten and stabbed; his body almost ripped apart and his white fur a horrid scarlet colour. He was still clutching that ukulele, like a life-line that had failed him. Like how Apollo failed him._

_His children’s bodies – their frail little bodies – were twisted and torn, their eyes wide open as they lay in their own blood. Austin had his throat ripped out, blood coating his favourite jacket, his saxophone still clutched in hand, crumpled and broken like his son’s body._

_Kayla had an arrow through her eye, the green of her hair-stained red. Her mouth was slack, open as she lay on her side in the blood. Blood rolled down her face, dripping slowly as though to taunt him._

_Yan and Gracie were battered and bloody, the blood running down their faces like tears and their bodies twisted so unnaturally, their bones shattered and twisted in ways he had never seen._

_Jerry’s head was bashed in, just like Lee’s had been year ago. So battered that Apollo could hardly recognise his face from the chunks of flesh and bone._

_Aria and Daisy were even worse. There was a gigantic hole in Aria’s chest, the pieces of bone and organs spewed out across the floor in a slush of gore, as though someone had taken a cannon to her chest. And Daisy, his youngest, laying in the blood, her ever so small body clawed and marred with great slashes that dripped with seemingly endless blood, still clutching her precious toy rabbit in her little pale hand._

_And Will. Will would have looked almost peaceful if it weren’t from the sheer amount of blood producing from his eldest son’s mouth and the knife driven into his chest._

_Apollo screamed himself hoarse, shaking all over. He stumbled closer to them, dropping to his knees beside Will. His trembling hands hovered over his son’s broken form, trying to summon some kind of power to heal him, to bring him back but all attempts were fruitless._

_“Please.” Apollo sobbed. “Please no. Don’t be dead, please don’t be dead. Wake up!”_

_He wailed pitifully, begging for his son to wake up. For at least one of them to just_ wake up _. Apollo sobbed and pleaded over and over, as he had for so many of his loved ones, for them to live._

_All seemed silent except for his sobs. He placed a gentle hand on Will’s cold cheek, whimpering. He brushed some of Will’s blood-caked hair out of his face when Will’s eyes burst open, his hand shooting up and clasping around Apollo’s wrist in a violent, bruising grip._

_Apollo cried out, staring at his son with wide horrified eyes. His son’s hand was so, so cold, like ice._

_“Y..You…” Will coughed roughly. “Y-Your… fault. Yo…you did this.”_

_Apollo shook his head, sobbing once more._

_“N-No. No… Will- “Apollo hiccupped, shaking like a leaf in one of Poseidon’s hurricanes._

_“You…. killed us….” Will choked before falling limp back onto the floor._

_Apollo scrambled away; throat tight, almost unable to breathe. He screamed as he saw Jason stand before him, body looking ready to crumble to the ground once more, walking toward him like a zombie. Blood poured out of Jason’s chest, from the spear that pierced his chest._

_“Your… fault….” Jason coughed up blood. “I’m…. dead… bec-because… of…. you!”_

_“I know!” Apollo screamed, pulling on his hair. “I know!”_

_“Y-Your… fault…” Jason repeated, walking closer and closer. With each step, his body seemed to decompose, skin and flesh rotting away, crawling with bugs that squirmed and scurried all over the rotting body until it was reduced to nothing but a skeleton that crumbled to dust before his very eyes._

_Apollo cried as the voices screamed at him, blaming him, accusing him like he didn’t already blame himself enough._

_Your fault!_

_You killed us!_

_Monster!_

_“I KNOW!” Apollo screamed. “It’s my fault, it’s all my fault!”_

_He screamed in anguish, unable to breathe, as though Python himself was coiled around his throat and crushing his windpipe. He looed down at his hands and sobbed as he saw the blood, they were covered in. Jason’s blood, Crest’s blood, his children’s blood._

_Why didn’t you protect us?_

_Why did you kill us?_

_You only care about yourself!_

_Apollo could see them, rising from their bloody graves to torment him, their voices screaming and screaming until his head pounded. He had crumpled to the ground, choking on his sobs, gasping for air as Will’s bloody body rose and stalked towards him._

_Before he could even speak, Will’s corpse plunged an arrow into his chest._

_“You should have died! Then maybe we would have lived!” He screamed, blood still pouring down his chin._

_Apollo did nothing as pain erupted across his entire body, blood drenching his shirt as it had when he failed to die the first time._

_Your fault!_

_So useless you couldn’t even kill yourself!_

_Why did you live and he didn’t?_

_You killed us!_

_You should have protected us!_

_Failure!_

_PATHETIC!_

_SOME GOD YOU ARE!_

**_YOUR FAULT!_ **

* * *

Apollo bolted up from his bed with a mortifying scream. He scrambled out of bed, wrestling his sheets away from him until he landed on the cold, hard marble floor of his temple. He struggled to his feet, swaying dangerously as he rushed out of his home, looking more dishevelled than he ever had before.

His children! He had to see his children! What if- what if….

He rushed to the edges of Mount Olympus, gasping for breath, not from exhaustion but panic and fear. Fear that his children lay dead in the cabin, dead because he had failed them like he had Crest and Jason.

He looked down at Camp Half-Blood from the edge of Olympus, closing his tear-filled eyes and vanishing in a flash of light. He imagined the cabin, shimmering golden even in the moonlight, the potted plants outside the door, the window boxes full of hyacinths and daisies and the brass windchimes hung on the porch and found himself standing in front of the cabin.

Still shaking, he rushed up the steps to the door and opened it slowly and gently as to not awaken his children. If they were still alive, that is. He hoped they were.

He stepped into the cabin, closing the door behind him. The sound of his children breathing gently and evenly in their sleep was more beautiful than any music he could have ever played. He felt his own breathing steady as he approached their bunks.

They were all okay. No blood or gore or horrendous injuries. They were sleeping soundly, bundled up in their soft yellow blankets. It brought Apollo tremendous relief, and eased his worry.

He stepped over to each bunk, checking each child’s pulse to assure himself that they were most certainly alive. He chuckled when he saw Austin had fallen asleep while writing a new song and set the notebook on his bedside table. He also prevented Aria from falling out of her bunk, as the redhead had fallen asleep while half hanging-off the bed and removed Kayla’s pocket knife from her hand as the girl slept, not liking the idea of his daughter accidentally stabbing herself in her sleep.

Apollo crouched by Will’s bed, pulling Will’s blanket up over his shoulders and pressed a kiss to his forehead. He did the same for all of them. He moved away from Yan’s bed to check on his youngest, Daisy only to feel his ichor freeze in his veins and his heart stop.

Her bed was empty. Daisy wasn’t in her bed. She was _missing_.

Instantly, Apollo felt his throat tighten and found himself struggling to breathe. He grasped hold of Daisy’s beloved toy rabbit, Zippy, left on her pillow.

_No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!_

He looked all around the room, tears forming in the corner of his eyes as his legs shook too much for him to stand. He fell to his knees, sobbing quietly with Zippy in his hands, pure unadulterated horror pulling at his heart.

_Where was she?_

_You failed to protect her._

_She’s probably hurt or dying or dead because of you!_

Apollo gasped for breath, the world spinning around him as he tried to get to his feet. Everything was spinning. He could hear the windchimes outside, the ringing near deafening as he pulled on his hair, breaking down into sobs.

Daisy was missing. Daisy was missing. One of his babies was missing, _again._ He failed her, he failed them. She was gone, she was gone, _she was gone!_

_She’s dead. She’s dead. You killed her, Apollo, you killed your baby._

_No! No, he just had to find her! He’d find her!_

_No, she’s dead. You failed her!_

Apollo sobbed into the soft fabric of his daughter’s toy rabbit. He had given her Zippy when she was born. Daisy had cried a lot as a baby, always afraid of being alone. He had found himself hearing her heart wrenching cries from even Olympus and had gifted her Zippy so she wouldn’t feel alone anymore.

He trembled, his chest hurting as he failed to breathe, feeling like he was drowning in his own tears. His throat was too tight and the air was too thin and it felt like his chest was being crushed and everything spinning _and he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe and he failed her, he failed her, he failed-_

“Daddy?” a tiny little voice chirped, causing Apollo’s head to shoot up and his eyes to lock onto the tiny little girl who stood in front of the bathroom door. She was very small, her golden hair in perfect curls and a splashing of freckles across her little button nose.

She stood there in her Hello Kitty pajamas, blinking her big blue eyes at him worriedly, a confused little pout on her lips. Relief washed over Apollo like a tidal wave, finally allowing him to breathe a little easier. He leapt up and pulled his youngest child into his arms with a broken sob.

He hugged her close to his chest, stroking her hair and sobbing quietly. He sat on the floor beside her bed, rocking side to side like she was still a baby. Daisy didn’t say anything, her four-year-old mind already able to tell something was wrong and her dad needed to clam down. She let him cry and hugged him back, Zippy held tight in her hands.

Apollo couldn’t speak. He couldn’t find any words to describe how relieved he was. She was okay. They were all okay. They weren’t dead, they weren’t hurt. He hadn’t failed them. He hadn’t messed up again.

He sat there with Daisy until the tightness in his chest had mostly vanished, leaving only a twinge of pain and he could breathe once again, pulling out of the hug enough to loom at Daisy and make sure she wasn’t hurt.

“Daddy? Are you okay?” Daisy’s little voice asked, looking up at him. Apollo smiled, though it looked sad from the tear tracks down his cheeks and his red and puffy eyes.

“I’m fine, sunshine. I’m alright.” He spoke. He wasn’t sure if it was entirely true, but right now, he certainly felt better. “I just… I got scared when I saw you weren’t here. I thought you were hurt.”

Daisy frowned, tilting her head to the side.

“Why?” she asked, like the little kid she was. It brought another smile to Apollo’s face.

“I had a nightmare. I thought you and your siblings were hurt.” He answered her, running his fingers through her curls.

“Oh. I had a nightmare once.” Daisy squeaked. “About this big snake coming to get me because I stepped on its tail in the garden. I said I was sorry but it chased me like this!”

She mimed a snake chomping around with her hand, waving her arm around like the snake’s body until she pretended the snake had chomped his nose with a delighted giggle. Apollo chuckled softly and booped her on the nose gently, like he had seen Paul Blofis do to his infant daughter Estelle before he regained his godhood.

Daisy smiled before yawning tiredly, hugging Zippy a little closer. Apollo smiled softly and stood up, Daisy still in his arms as the tired little girl yawned even more. He placed her down in her bed gently.

“Bedtime, sunshine. It’s late.” He said tucking her in. He couldn’t even remember the last time he got to tuck one of his children into bed.

“Okay. But…” Daisy frowned. “Are you sure you’re okay, Daddy?”

“Yeah. I’m okay.” Apollo assured her, once again unsure if that was entirely true. He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead and mad sure she had Zippy in her grasp before exiting towards the door.

“Night Daisy.” He whispered. “Goodnight guys.”

“Night daddy.” Was Daisy’s drowsy reply. Apollo was sure he heard a murmur from another few bunks but simply smiled and left the cabin, hesitating before he shut the door.

He knew he had to return to Olympus soon but he decided to sit on the porch, tears of relief beginning to roll down his cheeks. He was exhausted but he could not bring himself to try sleeping again, not after such an awful nightmare.

Instead, he leaned against the gold painted railing of his cabin, and kept crying. Whether out of relief or pain, he had no clue anymore.

He felt bad now. He might have lied to Daisy after all, he realised as he wept alone on the steps.

It was starting to look like he was a lot less okay than he thought.


	2. A Glimmer in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollo thinks of how his relationship and view of his family has changed since his trials and gets into a fight with Artemis but finds a small comfort in his favourite aunt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Once again, I do not own Trials of Apollo or anything do do with the Riordanverse, that all belongs to Rick Riordan and associated companies. I'm just a fan with too many ideas and a love of making Apollo suffer.  
> Also, Warning: My crappy attempts at poetry and some minor swearing.

After his latest nightmare, Apollo could not bring himself to sleep again. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see the blood, the twisted bones, the rotting flesh and immediately found himself wanting to throw up.

It was worst nightmare yet. Never had his dreams been so gory, so _real_. It terrified more than he could ever say, because imagine what would happen if he did? Ares would have the time of life making fun of him and the others would either tease him or say he was being pathetic or weak or worthless or….

_Well, they’re not wrong. Are they?_

Apollo tugged on his hair, cursing his own thoughts. He flopped backwards onto his bed, grabbing one of his pillows and hugging it tightly to his chest.

It was the late afternoon and Apollo had finished his duties for the day. Despite having so many domains and missing six months of work, he had still finished his daily duties before anyone else. Artemis always said he rushed them so he could meet up with whatever new lover he had or other foolish things.

While that may have been true in the past, it certainly wasn’t now. Apollo found he was in no mood for romance or even a quick hook up at some nightclub. He just wanted to hide in his room, away from the world that seemed so determined to make his life miserable.

So, instead of going to a nightclub to sleep with a stranger and probably siring another poor child who’d end up forgotten and fighting to survive in a world against them, he stayed in his room and wrote.

He would have played his ukulele but he couldn’t look at it right now, not without thinking of Crest in his dream, still clutching it. So, he wrote poems to keep himself busy. They were nothing special, just what came to his mind; Hyacinthus, Daphne, his children, Meg and Peaches, the Muses singing that he could hear from across Olympus.

Eventually, he had gotten lost in the poems, not even thinking as the pen glided across the paper. Words came easily, so easy he had not even been following his own writings.

He clutched his final poem in his hand, the paper crinkling as he moved onto his back with a soft sigh. He traced the words with his finger, taking in what he had written without pay attention.

_Fractured, bloody_

_Fighting on_

_Like a soldier with a battle wound_

_Marching alone_

_Towards the sun_

_Over a rocky way_

_Each rock crumbles at my touch_

_Rocks higher each hour_

_Alone, no hope to find_

_Forgotten, left on the stones_

_While the others reached the top_

_Basking in the glow_

_No care for the one left behind_

He set the paper aside, looking up at his ceiling with tear-stung eyes.

The poem brought back memories of his trials and not pleasant ones. It reminded him of waking up in that dumpster alone, thrown away like a broken toy that was no longer amusing.

Apollo scowled, rubbing at his eyes before tears could fall.

He had felt so abandoned during his trials. He felt like his family had just so easily thrown him to the wolves that were Zeus’ wrath. They had not spoken in his defence at all, instead choosing to let Zeus punish him for _one_ mistake.

Apollo still questioned why he had been punished and used as a scapegoat for the entire war for making one bad decision. He knew he had made a mistake with Octavian; he wasn’t afraid to admit that now but compared to Ares knowingly hiding the master bolt back when it was stolen to create a war between their father and uncle? Why wasn’t Ares punished?

_Hera probably came to his aid. No one did that for you. Why would they?_

Apollo shook his head at his thoughts, feeling like there was a hole where his heart used to be as he recalled his realisations about his family, the ones he had had on his trials.

Should he really be surprised they let him take the fall? Left him to die? He had once had fond thought so his family and Olympus, but now, they no longer seemed sweet, soured by the truth.

No one had ever really listened to him unless it was what they had wanted to hear, and if that wasn’t the case, they’d blow him off like some airhead. They treated him like he was stupid, even though he was the god of _knowledge_. Whenever he tried to help, they told him to stay out of it because who would want the god of logic help form a battle strategy?

And how they all stayed so silent about the _abuse_. He knew plenty of his siblings were punished by their father but he also knew none of them as often as himself. Zeus was less direct with his abuse towards the others; Hermes was overworked as their father’s “assistant”, Ares was punished similar to himself but in much less quantities thanks to Hera, Hephaestus was more verbally abused and never interacted with others enough to deserve much punishment, Dionysus by having his wine taken away and precious Athena and Artemis could never do anything to be punished and even then, if they did, all they got was a slap on the wrist.

It was him who got the brunt of their father’s temper, so much more often than the others. They all complained about their punishments, always got sympathy from the others and when he spoke out, he was told to quit whining because _“that’s just how Father is, Apollo.”_

That excuse.

_“That’s just how they are.”_

It was their go-to excuse for their actions. Apollo was well aware that Gods were very different from humans and there were certain things that they couldn’t help but when they hurt people or did things that many would call _sociopathic_ , they just said it was how they were or, gods forbid, they’d blame the victim of their anger.

But did that make it okay? Did it make it okay for them to cause so much harm and avoid the blame?

Why was it okay for Zeus to hurt them simply because that was how he was? An what had he done to deserve to suffer with no sympathy, told to stay quiet and stop annoying them?

It wasn’t. It really wasn’t and it had taken him over four thousand years to learn that because he’d been living like it was for so long. It had taken six months of pain and blood and tears for him to wake up and see clearly.

Before his trials, he would have brushed off how they treated him, used their favourite excuse and continue on. But now, he couldn’t ignore it. They had abandoned him when they let Zeus turn him mortal.

Part of him knew they were just following his father’s rules not to interfere but he had broken those rules before, to help Percy Jackson on his quest to save his sister. He had been punished, yes, but it was worth it for Artemis.

_You weren’t worth helping._

_It was much more fun to watch you suffer, like a game._

It was a bitter thought, but it felt incredibly true. They had treated hi possible death like a game with those bets. The bets Hermes had started. His baby brother, the brother Apollo would have done anything for, who he had cared for and comforted, who he had been there for since he was born.

Hermes had apologized but it was half-assed, another excuse. Stress relief, the little bird had told him. A way to cope.

Stress relief or not, it hurt. It burned a hole into Apollo’s heart to know that to his own family, his life was worth barely a handful of drachmas. He could have died and they saw it as an opportunity to bet, to watch like it was some game.

_Did they ever really care about me at all?_

Apollo groaned and got up form his bed, no longer wanting to think about it, to remind himself of his bitterness towards his family. He rubbed his temples, cleaning up his desk of poems. He read them, placing his happier works – those about Meg and his children – away in a small box to keep safe. He left his other works on his desk, eyes glimpsing over the brutal truths of his own mind.

His hands trembled as they read another one of his poems.

_Am I invisible?_

_Can I not be seen?_

_I’ve given my all_

_I’ve done what they asked_

_Looked on the bright side_

_When nothing is bright_

_Sang and danced_

_When my throat was rough_

_And my feet bled_

_I was quiet when I wanted to scream_

_I was what they wanted of me_

_But am only seen_

_When thrown away_

_Left to bleed_

_I was what they expected_

_What they requested_

_But why do they still not love me?_

Apollo bit his lip as it wobbled, tears welling in his eyes. He looked away from it, tossing it into the pile of others and made his way to the door.

He wanted to see Artemis. However bitter he was, however betrayed and hurt he felt, he wanted his sister. He had almost forgotten her face while he was mortal, almost forgotten who she was. He had missed her more than anything.

He had been avoiding most of his family since he cam back, he will admit. He spent more time helping out Dionysus at camp or kept to himself. He had had few conversations with any other gods except his mother or sister.

Artemis had been comforting, had listened to him sob out his regrets when he first returned. She had missed him just as much as he had missed her. It had been so wonderful spending time with her the first few weeks after he returned, like when they were younger, before they had begun to drift apart.

But no matter how far they had drifted apart since they were young, he still loved her more than anything.

He vanished from his temple in a flash of light, appearing at his sister’s camp. She should be finished with most of her duties by now, so he hoped he wouldn’t be distracting her. Besides, he wouldn’t stay long.

It was painful to admit that he knew his sister didn’t really need him around, not like he needed her. He may pretend he was the older sibling but he was well aware that Artemis was older. That she saw him as annoying.

_A burden. That’s all you are to her._

Apollo ignored the thought, instead entering the camp. He got some annoyed looks from the hunters who immediately recognised him. They rolled their eyes and scowled at him, fully expecting him to start flirting.

Apollo felt bad about that. Truthfully, while many of the hunters were pretty and he would honestly admit to having his fair share of crushes amongst them, he had only really flirted with them to obtain his sister’s attention. He got carried away with it, he will admit now, but he never would have before.

_Don’t flirt with them. Artemis knows you’re trying to be better now._

Apollo kept walking on, distracted by his thoughts before bumping into one of the hunters. The girl immediately began to apologize, face flushed with embarrassment. She was a pretty girl, about sixteen in appearance, with curly brown hair and baby blue eyes.

He brushed off her apologies, for there was no reason for her to be sorry at all. It took him a moment to recognise her but he did. She looked just like her mother, after all, but she got his eyes. She was one of his daughters, having joined the hunt over fifty years ago.

“No problem, Sally.” He smiled, making her smile. “Is my sister here?”

“Yeah, but she’s not in a good mood today, dad.” Sally informed him with a sad expression. “Our hunt last night wasn’t very successful. We nearly lost a few hunters but we’re okay now.”

Apollo nodded. He knew how temperamental Artemis got when a hunt failed. He desperately wanted to see his siter, confide in her about his nightmare, about his pain but he didn’t want to annoy her. He’d done so too many times in their long lives. His feeling didn’t matter right now. He could deal with them later, but his sister sounded like she needed someone to listen to her right now.

“I’ll talk with her. Maybe I can cheer her up.” He smiled. Sally shrugged.

“Not sure you can. Lady Artemis is really pissed.” She said softly.

“Don’t worry about it. I think she just needs to let off some steam if she’s as grumpy as you say. I happen to have experience with an annoyed Artemis.” He smirked, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“APOLLO! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT FLIRTING WITH MY HUNTERS?” came the familiar scream of his twin. He turned to see the goddess storming towards him, silver-amber eyes glimmering with anger.

“I wasn’t, I swear. She’s my daughter!” Apollo tried to explain. Artemis was seething, glaring at him with her fists clenched.

“Not my fault you usually flirt with every girl you come across! One can’t help but assume, Apollo.” she snapped before turning to Sally. “Sally, go help Thalia.”

His daughter dutifully nodded and left with a soft goodbye to Apollo. Th god turned to his angry sister.

“I wasn’t planning flirting with any of them, Arty. I promise.” He said. Artemis scowled at him.

“Like I believe that. Last week you were saying how you wanted to be better and yet here you are!” she said. Apollo winced, the words like a stab to the heart.

“I wanted to see you. I know you’re upset about last night’s hunt- “Artemis cut him off.

“I’m not in the mood to deal with you! I don’t need you to comfort me, Apollo. Despite what you insist, I’m not your _little_ sister.” Artemis snapped. “I’ve had to deal with Aphrodite whining all week and last night’s hunt on top of it! I don’t want to deal with my annoying little brother!”

Apollo winced at her last sentence.

“I wasn’t going to annoy you! It’s not my fault you’re- “He was cut off by sister once more.

“You always annoy me!” Artemis screamed. “Do me a favour and for once, leave me alone!”

Apollo wanted to cry but bit his lip. He couldn’t cry, he was not mortal anymore; crying wasn’t okay, it was weak and pathetic.

“Look I’m sorry if you’re in a bad mood but don’t take it out on me! I just wanted to cheer you up.” he snapped back; fists clenched. Artemis grit her teeth and scowled.

“Like your visits have every cheered me up.” She scoffed. Apollo felt his next words catch in his throat. Some traitorous tears escaped his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

“Fine! I guess I’m such a horrible person for wanting to be with my sister!” he yelled. Artemis yelled right back, their argument escalating.

“Ever think that I don’t want to deal with you!? All you do is flirt with my hunters, annoy the hell out of me and sprout your stupid haikus!” she fired back.

“Well sorry for wanting your attention!” Apollo screamed back. “Maybe if you actually paid attention to me sometimes, I wouldn’t have done that so much!”

_Shut up. You did that yourself._

“Oh, go ahead! Blame me! I’ll you why you did that; because you’re an egotistical bastard who doesn’t care about anyone but himself!” Artemis screamed, gesturing angrily.

Apollo felt like his heart had been ripped out as his sister confirmed so many of his inner thoughts. He had been trying so hard to ignore those thoughts, the dark words that whispered in his ear throughout his nightmares.

He knew they were true already, knew that deep down he was a horrible person. But to have his sister say so was a whole other pain, so much worse than any nightmare. His sister, his twin, his other half, thought he was selfish, thought he was an awful person. He wanted to sob, he wanted to scream, he wanted to fall to the ground and beg for her forgiveness.

_Like she would forgive you. You’re a terrible brother._

“That’s not true!” He protested whether to his sister or his own thoughts, he didn’t know anymore.

_Liar. No wonder she hates you._

“Yes, it is! Keep denying it all you want, just like always!” Artemis yelled. Apollo swallowed back the sob that tried to tear through his throat. She turned on hr heel and began to storm away, each step thundering with her anger.

“Now do me a favour, and leave me the hell alone! I don’t want to put up with you!”

_See? She hates you, Apollo. She can’t stand to look at you._

It was like a punch to the gut. Apollo stood stock still, shocked that his sister would say such a thing, even in anger. Was he that pathetic, that annoying?

He had never wanted to anger his sister with his flirting or haikus or random visits. All he had ever wated was her attention, wanted to be closer to her after she began to pull away. He didn’t know what he did to make her pull away in he first place, but now he had a pretty good idea of why.

_Because you are nothing to her. No wonder she didn’t show up until you were nearly dead. She should have let you die._

She should have. She really should have.

_You’re just a burden to her._

Was that it? Was that why she pulled away? Had he become a burden to her? Apollo attempted to rub away the tears that were quickly making their way down his face, a whimper escaping his lips.

_Look at you. Crying like a baby. Maybe she hates you because you’re so weak._

Apollo felt his chest tighten and the heartache build up, his breathing becoming shallow and unsteady. He vanished from the hunters’ camp in a shimmer of golden, not waning anyone to see him like this.

* * *

He reappeared back in his temple, stumbling as he struggled to breathe. He wanted to cry, he wanted to wail and sob but jut couldn’t let go. What was the point?

Why should he cry when no one cared? Why should he cry when all it did was remind him of the months, he spent sobbing himself to sleep with not even a whisper of comfort? When it never brought him any relief, just exhausted him long enough for another nightmare?

Why should he cry when no one was ever going to comfort him, ever going to care if he was okay, just like all those nights he spent crying until he had no tears left to cry, like that day he woke up in that dumpster, wondering if anyone would ever hear him, if anyone _even bother to notice…_

“Apollo?”

His head shot up at the vice. His eyes were met with the sight of his favourite aunt, Hestia, the eldest goddess’ warm aura filling the room. She stood by his writing desk, several papers in her hands.

The poems.

Hestia looked at him with a sad, concerned expression, eyes watery with tears. Apollo was trembling in horror that she had read them. Read the poems that described the dark, horrible thoughts that had plagued his mind ever since he returned from his trials, the agony he had went through.

“’ _But why do they still not love me?’”_ she quoted, reading the poem softly. Apollo whimpered, eyes stinging and his cheeks raw from the tears. The room was spinning, his throat was too tight, to raw to speak.

“Oh, Apollo.” Hestia whispered. “I’m so sorry, child.”

She sat down on the edge of his bed, setting the papers down. She opened her arms and motioned for him to come closer. Apollo stumbled, knees buckling and crashing to the hard marble floor. He let out a strangled cry and began to sob into her lap.

She ran her fingers softly through his golden hair, not speaking a word as she let her nephew cry, shushing his heartbroken wails with words of comfort.

Apollo could not stop the wails of pain and heartache that had been building up for far too long. Hestia’s comfort brought some relief but very little. Those horrible, twisted thoughts still whispered poisonous truths into his ears, he knew his nightmares would not cease even with the comfort.

Apollo was all too aware that Hestia is the only one in this messed up family who might care about him. He knew he would never truly be listened to, that no one else would ever hear his cries.

But right now, he could take solace in Hestia’s comfort, in the fact that she had heard him. That she cared.

He could rest now, at least until his next nightmare came to haunt him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, no cute little Daisy to lighten the mood this time.  
> Apollo's relationship with his Olympian family is a very interesting subject to write about and I'll definetly be diving deeper into the topic in later chapters, especially about Artemis, Hermes and Zeus.  
> It's basically confirmed the Apollo we see in PJO and HOO is a mask he created to please the other gods that he got too absorbed into (at least from how i see it) and i feel like that made Artemis pull away because he was too much like the men she despised now, and Apollo, as mentioned, tried to obtain her attention via flirting with her hunters.  
> I'm not trying to bash Artemis here - I love her, really - but I'm adding a little bit of salt for plot reasons. She really just had a bad day and took it out on Apollo.  
> And Hermes and the bets is a topic for a much later chapter. I love the little bird but betting on your brother's chance of survival is an all time low. I'm assuming he started it since he's the god of gambling and it was probably indeed for stress relief but I can't even imagine how it must feel to Apollo to have his life's worth be diminished by his own family to a handful of drachmas.  
> And Zeus is a whole other topic on itself and these notes are long enough.  
> To put it simply; Zeus is an asshole.  
> Feel free to leave comments and kudos.  
> Next Chapter coming soon...

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I love making Apollo suffer.  
> I got this whole idea when I thought of how the trials effected Apollo after the books finished. He went through some serious shit, including stabbing himself in the chest, being slowly poisoned to death and dying for three seconds. Plus, he was technically abandoned by the Olympians even though he broke Zeus' rules to help save Artemis in the Titian's Curse and yet they don't do anything for him until he's practically dead in The Tyrant's Tomb. Even worse, they were betting on if he would survive.  
> He was abused by Zeus for thousands of years, and the fact that he finally acknowledges that Zeus was less of a father and more his abuser is devastating because it helps him realise how toxic the environment on Olympus truly is. I feel like being in that environment, while struggling with the self-loathing, the guilt and even depression brought on by the trials would just make everything worse for Apollo.  
> I sincerely doubt he comes out of his time as a mortal after everything that happened to him - abandoned and thrown away by his family for one mistake, constant near death and brutal injuries, losing people he cared for and then blaming himself for their deaths, acknowledging that Zeus abused him and Olympus was toxic, nearly falling into Chaos and over the course of the entire series having his entire view of the world and himself shattered - without some serious issues.  
> And I don't think the Gods have ever had to deal with someone, let alone another god who is struggling with the likes of depression, anxiety and general self-loathing on the level Apollo is feeling. The Gods don't know how to deal with a god that has become broken.  
> But, I hope I make up for Apollo's pain by giving you Apollo and his kids cute family moments. Daisy and Aria are my own original Apollo kids; Aria's fifteen and Daisy is almost five. Jerry, Yan and Gracie are from Tower of Nero.  
> Next chapter coming soon...


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